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Category: Short Stories

He locked the bathroom door and turned the faucet on. A few handfuls of cold water, to the face, might do the trick. He let the water cool his skin, soaking into his pours. After taking extra care in rubbing his eyes, he peers up into the mirror. The reflection is wearing the same startled, confused look that he is. “What the fuck”, he mutters. The water, slipping from his lips into his mouth, prompted him to grab the towel from the rack on his left. “I must be going crazy”, he said into the towel. “Going crazy?”, he heard himself say. “Going, implies that the destination hasn’t already been reached”. He laughed into the towel, then put it down to face the mirror once again. “So that’s being pretty modest of you , don’t you think?” There was no laughter this time. An air of concern now hung around him, and it wasn’t because that question hit a soft spot, that he was already joking around. His concern was caused by the fact that he had watched himself say this aloud, yet he knew he hadn’t moved his lips. “Shit”, he said this time. “Shit, is right”, his reflection stated. “I believe we have some catching up to do.”

We rolled in the grass, laughing at how simple it all was. Our feet were bare and wind flowed through our hair. We had not one care in the world, besides keeping a smile on the other’s face. The clouds were shaped as we made them up in our minds. Along the edges of our field, there was a fence that we never spoke of. Suddenly, she peers towards the edge and asks, “Does the grass seem greener over there”? That’s a question I’ve occasionally contemplated, but I’d never admit to that. “Looks about the same to me”, I replied. “I think we should move”. She said it so plainly, so bluntly. As if this was a decision she’d already put time into making. “Well I rather like it here”, I said in a cheerfully hopeful tone. “I want to stay”. There was a pause between us. “Well I think I need to go, see it for myself and all”, she finally blurted out. The clouds seemed to take on an angrier demeanor, the more I furrowed my brow. Now, barely able to hide my frustration, I said, “If you feel you must go, than go. If you find yourself feeling as if you’re missing something, you know where to find me”. A few moments passed, in which nothing happened. The few moments, in which I believed she was going to stay, ended. She got up, and with no goodbye, she made her way down to the fence. She then hopped the fence, just as she had pictured herself doing so many times before. I waited days for the sight of her hopping back over, and even though I still saw her from a distance, she never did. My foolish pride and hope kept me at bay for weeks. It was midway into the third week, now. I hadn’t seen her for days. I had tried to avoid even looking towards the fence, the few days before that. I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked over to the fence and paused when it was in front of me. I looked to the ground, from my side, to the other side, to my side, and then back again. “That side is much is much greener”, I sighed with a smile. Although, it was much less to little to do with the place or the actual shade of grass, and more so to everything to do with the person on the other side of the fence. I clasped my hands on top of the fence, and hurled myself over it. I landed with both feet on the ground and examined my new area. “She must be waiting for me, as I was for her”, I thought. I started to walk on, with passion fueling my search. Day turned to night, then night turned back to day. She was nowhere to be found. I spent that day shouting her name, sluggishly running in all directions, and eventually, in a circle. I found myself back at that fence. That same damned fence. Rage, grief, sadness, agony, all took possession of my body, in an almost demonic manner. Night fell onto the land as I spent hours dismantling that fence, and then I burned it. I danced around the flames like a mad man, with the stars as my audience now. I fell back against the soft grass, exhausted, yet overjoyed. I awoke to the birds singing. The sun was just beginning to rise, as the embers from the fire were gradually burning out. The night was a bit of a blurred memory. The pain, the fire, the fence, Her. They were all now a memory. They held no relativity in the present. They were merely a recollection of the past. As the air of acceptance blew me to my feet, I fixed my eyes on the last remaining ember. I walked over to the once resilient fence, ground the ember with the toe of my boot, turned around, and walked away. I was finally moving on.

I stood in my kitchen, gazing out the window above the sink as the falling snow added more and more to the thick white blanket, covering the ground. Just days ago, the earth still resembled its fall attire. The tree branches, barely clothed, slowly shedding the last of their leaves. The ground still predominately green with life. This snow was a nearly unpredicted occurrence. The local weather stations were calling for a chance of a flurry and were met with a foot, and gaining. I can’t say I’m surprised that the weather forecast was wrong. What astounded me was how this snow came at such a perfect time. It was mid-December, and people were starting to fret that there wouldn’t be a white Christmas. This snow came at the perfect time. People were becoming angry and hostile with one another. They can only put up with the cold and the mere promise of snow for so long. This snow came at the perfect time. People started to notice the absence of Thomas Hughes. He went missing 2 days before the storm hit, and started to cause a small panic amongst the people. When his disappearance became more of a known issue, people decided that they would send a search team out in the morning, this morning, but the roads and woods are too dangerous and burdening to have people perform a search. This snow came at the perfect time. By the time this snow clears away, the ground that lay on top of the recent corpse will not look out of place. It will look only like a victim of the immense pressure of the snow, and if it doesn’t melt till the spring, the body will decay faster with the rising temperature. This snow couldn’t have came at a more perfect time.

My foot could not have pressed the accelerator down anymore without stomping a hole through the car’s floor. I stopped looking in the rearview window, because the view was the same. Three pigs managing to operate vehicles were hot on my tail. My lover and partner in crime was in the passenger sear, flipping through the money in a duffel bag. “Stop playing with Benjamin and spear these pigs”, I said, opening the glove box and pointing to a loaded pistol. Her rebuttal was, “How about you just lose em already!?” “I can’t seem to shake them.” The car was pushing 130 through outer Los Angeles, I was praying to Hell’s Angels as a last resort of hope. A small cliff, overlooking the Pacific lay ahead. “There gaining on us”, Roxie said. She was one of the strongest females I knew, but her eyes gave away all of her fears. I took a deep breath, stared at her a few more seconds, then to the ocean. “We murdered people back there. I won’t do a lifetime in prison. I think we may need to take a dip.” She held my gaze, processing my statement. Understanding. She didn’t say anything besides, “I love you”, then she grabbed my hand as we headed straight for a turn that would head straight off the cliff. The police sirens were drowned out by my own breathing. I had reached an undeniable sense of clarity about what was about to occur. The car’s steering wheel began to shake with the increasing speed, but the rest of my body remained dead still. Going over the edge was one of the most peaceful things I’ve ever experienced. The drop was not nearly as high as I thought it was going to be. The impact into the water didn’t even shatter the glass, although there were cracks in it. As I regained focus, I watched the car being slowly filled with water. We sank gradually down. I looked over and noticed that I’m somehow still holding Roxie’s hand. I could see it in her hazel eyes that she had expected this fate. It was not a beaten look, but an accepted one. We would either drown or suffocate, or simply be crushed by the pressure of the water. We spent our last breaths kissing each other more deeply than the ocean floor that became our grave.